Domesticity
by BiteMeTechie
Summary: [CAT] Dirty clothes. Fabric softener. Detergent. Stalkers. Now everyone sing along. One of these things is not like the others, one of these things just doesn't belong...
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: This is part of the CATverse, which, if you don't know what that is...what, have you been under a rock for the past six months or something? :D See freewebs. com/ catverse (get rid of the spaces) for the official story arc listing._

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Things were not all sunshine and lollipops inside the newly opened Sunshine Sanitarium (Gotham City Branch).

Of course, things were _rarely_ all sunshine and lollipops inside a sanitarium unless it was group therapy day, and even then, it was more like sunshine and forced hug therapy.

While Sunshine was specified as the softer, gentler asylum in Gotham city, that didn't make its patients any more sane than those in Arkham. Sunshine was the place you sent little Susie when she started cutting herself or where you shoved little Jonny when he got too rowdy at a society function. On the surface, these people might have _seemed_ less dangerous than the _criminally_ insane, but it was Doctor Elisabeth Elvira Carey's opinion that many of the patients she treated could conceivably be the next generation's costumed villains if they weren't taken care of properly. Little Tommy's affinity for 'rough housing' with the family pet just a little too hard could easily turn into killing the animal, which could lead to even _more_ psychopathic behaviors, possibly resulting in homicidal tendencies and attraction to strange chemicals...

And then overnight, you'd have a brand new Joker on your hands.

Elisabeth took it upon herself to try and help the individuals who were committed to Sunshine as best she could to try and banish those nastier personality traits. She succeeded to a degree with many of them, having a higher success rate than most other psychiatric facilities, but there was one patient in particular that...worried her.

At first, Elisabeth couldn't put her finger on _why_, but Cadence Armitage was a worrying individual. On the surface, she seemed like a completely ordinary nineteen year old girl, but on closer inspection, one would find that she had several disturbing emotional oddities.

Cadence took an unhealthy interest in the people around her; whatever they were doing, whatever topic they were talking about, she had to be a part of it, going out of her way to be the most involved in whatever was popular.

She also had a tendency to stick to other people to the point that she started to idolize them. She set them high on a pedestal, worshipped the ground they walked on, and tried _very_ hard to become their friend.

And not just their friend...she wanted to be their _best_ friend. She wanted to involve herself in every aspect of her chosen victim's life, and when she wasn't trying to talk _to_ the person she had picked as this week's obsession, she was talking _about_ them. Furthermore, she eventually took it upon herself to become _so_ much like the person she was obsessed with, she tried to replace them in the group.

Now, _that_ was disturbing enough on its own but the _really_ horrifying part was the people she started to talk about the week before she was to be discharged.

Apparently, she'd seen a news item about the Scarecrow and the Riddler recently robbing a bank together with the assistance of three women not all that much older than herself.

Elisabeth saw the downward spiral coming and tried to keep Cadence from falling into it, but she couldn't stop it from happening. It was like the suction of a whirlpool at sea, pulling her down into its depths, trying to drown her.

And all Elisabeth could do was _watch_.

"How do you think they got to work for the Scarecrow?" "How old are they?" "What're their names?"

The questions were constant. Cadence's last few sessions before her discharge were _full_ of them. All she could talk about was the Scarecrow, the Riddler...how she wanted to be as skilled as those three henchgirls were...how she wanted to be on the news someday like they were...how she wanted to be _just like them_…

Even now, finishing up the paperwork to discharge her, Elisabeth was filled with dread about what would happen once she was unleashed on society.

After all, the girl was about as stable as a sandcastle. This could lead to a disaster of unforeseeable breadth and scope.

_Especially_ if she tried her usual 'Friendship followed by replacement' MO on the people she was currently so fascinated with.

Cadence was insane, surely, there was no denying there was something seriously wrong with her; but she was also a_ voluntary_ inpatient. Doctor Carey couldn't very well force her to stay or go to the police and say "I believe she'll become a threat to society if allowed outside where she can give into her inclination to stalk people". The authorities didn't take any notice of a psychiatrist's suspicions about a patient's mental state unless that patient had a costume hanging in their closet and a large supply of something toxic on hand.

Elisabeth's hands were quite effectively tied...and she _hated_ it.

But what choice did she have? All she could do was suggest more counseling on an outpatient basis, and that wasn't going to do much good...

Elisabeth chewed on her bottom lip thoughtfully, an old habit that was a manifestation of her anxiety, before she signed the document in front of her and handed it to the waiting, smiling girl across from her.

"Thank you, Doctor Carey," Cadence said with a grin before getting up.

"Remember what we talked about, Cadence," Elisabeth said tightly.

Cadence flashed the doctor a hundred watt smile, one that left Elisabeth feeling cold all over. "I know, Doctor. I can't live through other people."

"I'm glad you know that."

Another phony smile graced Cadence's face. "It's good, solid advice, Doctor; and don't worry, I'm going to make my own way in the world, I _promise_ you."

Those words did little to comfort Elisabeth as she watched Cadence saunter out of the office, leaving the sanitarium for good.

As her office door shut, all Elisabeth could do was pray that things didn't go the way she thought they were going to.


	2. Chapter 2

Across town, far from the Sunshine Sanitarium in a run down part of Gotham, inside a warehouse that had been converted into a hideout for four of Gotham's most wanted, it was laundry day for the Scarecrow.

Only he wasn't aware of it yet.

Actually, he wasn't aware of much, what with being _asleep_ and all. Slumber tends to cut down on a fellow's awareness just a _smidge_. Besides, it had been a long night of listening to the screams of his test subjects as their minds were rent in half by his latest, nastiest, fastest acting fear toxin yet…he deserved to rest.

Tearing apart a person's sanity was tiring work, after all.

But when the door to his bedroom slammed open and Al bounced in with a basket in hand, chirping "Laundry day!" he was jerked awake and sprang out of bed so quickly he forgot his current state of undress.

Well, just a pair of pajama pants, in front of _her_ and in his opinion, was a 'state of undress'. The less she saw of him, the better.

Crane crossed her arms over his bare chest, glad for the excuse to cover himself more from her view. "What are you _doing_ at this ungodly hour?!"

She tipped her head at him curiously. "It's _noon_, Squishykins."

His eyes narrowed distrustfully. "**No**, it isn't."

Her eyes widened in innocence. "Yes it is."

Crane glowered at her. "Don't you _dare_ try to Gaslight me, you unscrupulous woman, I will not fall for that _again_."

"It _is_ noon," Al said firmly. "Check your watch before you bite a person's head off. What's more, it's laundry day and I am **not** leaving this room without dirty Squish clothes. So either give me the contents of your hamper or I'll make you strip, mister."

_That_ got his hackles up. "If you even _think_ of doing such a thing--"

"I know, I know, my life will be forfeit," Al replied as though she'd heard the threat a million times before. "Now, do you want a clean costume or do you want to be known as Gotham's smelliest villain?"

He grumbled low in his throat, but stalked over to the little basket at the foot of his cot to collect what few dirty clothes there were. He tossed them at Al, clearly in bad temper, but despite his best efforts, the force of throwing the ball of cloth at her didn't knock her off balance.

"I'll have you know that Killer Croc is Gotham's smelliest villain, not _me_."

"The jury's still out on that one, Squishy. Sack cloth doesn't breathe very well, you know--"

"You have your laundry." He turned the fiercest glare he could muster on the offensive intruder. "Now. **Get. Out.**"

Amazingly, she did as she was told, closing his door behind herself with a quiet 'click'.

Either Jonathan had finally figured out _the_ glare that would scare her off, or her compliance was a sign that today was not to be a normal day.

Much as he hated it, Crane was leaning toward the latter option of the two.


	3. Chapter 3

Despite their history with the place, the three henchgirls known as the Captain, Al and Techie still frequented the Wishy Washy Laundromat. Even though Techie broke into giggles every time she loaded a washing machine, it was a small price to pay for the privacy the place afforded. If the Scarecrow hadn't forbidden them from _ever_ attempting to hook-up a washing machine in their lair again, they wouldn't have had to go out, but as it was, the Wishy Washy was a nice, empty place to wash anything that might have raised the eyebrows of customers in more reputable establishments.

Aside from the fact it was located in a rather impractical location for a Laundromat to be (right next to a restaraunt where it was known that the mafia did its _own_ sort of laundry), ever since the Wishy Washy had been mentioned in a news broadcast about the Riddler having been captured there, the already small pool of customers dwindled down to next to nothing.

Therefore, that made it the perfect place for criminals to do their laundry without fear of being disturbed.

Whether or not the Joker had made use of the place yet wasn't known, but if the way the owner got all jumpy whenever he saw anything purple was any indication, there was a good chance that the Joker _had_ popped inside at one time or another.

But on this particular occasion, the owner was nowhere to be found.

Possibly because he had a feeling that there were going to be villainous types coming in today, or possibly because he was tied up in a closet with a ball gag in his mouth.

Hey, it was Gotham. _Anything_ was possible.

Either way, three women wandered inside, two whistling and one not and all of them with baskets of laundry.

With surgical precision they started loading their respective washing machines, careful to keep their villainous master's costumes separate (there was no need for a repeat of the fabric softener incident), and in less than five minutes, the washers were running and the Captain, Al and Techie had taken their usual places perched on various chairs and leaning against walls where they chattered at each other abut whatever subject struck their fancy, waiting for the wash to finish running.

It was charmingly routine.

At least, it was until the bell on the door jingled loudly and a short, petite blonde girl bounded inside.

Used to keeping their conversations private, all three henchgirls stopped talking immediately and turned suspicious eyes on the gatecrasher.

She _looked_ innocent enough, with those big brown doe eyes, and she looked at each of the girls in turn before she settled on Techie and her eyes got wide, a smile spreading on her face like that you'd wear when seeing an old friend.

"It's you! Hi!" The little blonde said happily as she closed the distance between herself and Techie before throwing her arms around the _very_ confused woman. "I'm so happy to see you!"

Techie stayed stiff and looked at her companions with a "What the hell?" expression.

The Captain and Al got up from their seats, returning Techie's confused look with confused looks of their own.

The girl seemed to notice the fact that the woman she was wrapped around wasn't reciprocating her affection and her voice came out hurt as she loosened her grip a little. "Don't you remember me?"

Still muddled, but not wanting to upset the crazy person in her arms (besides, this wouldn't be the first time someone ran up to her and hugged her that she'd completely forgotten about), Techie lied through her teeth. "Uh...sure! Sure I do."

"Oh, I'm so glad!" The blonde said again, pulling back to look at Techie fondly. "You look exactly the same!"

"Do I?" Techie asked, her own voice sounding strange to her ears.

"Oh yes!" She nodded enthusiastically. "_Just_ the same as you did back then! You were always my favorite person at camp!"

Techie found herself in another bone crushing hug at the hands of the little blonde and Al and the Captain stared at her.

"I never went to camp," she mouthed at the Captain and Al as she patted the girl's back awkwardly.

The blonde, still sunny, happy and smiling, let go of Techie and turned to look at the Captain and Al. "Aren't you going to introduce me?"

"Oh. Uh yeah." Techie scratched her head. "Captain, Al, this is---"

"Cadence!" The teenager excitedly hugged each of the bewildered henchgirls in turn. "I'm so glad to meet you both."

"Um."

"Uh."

Their lack of response didn't bother Cadence at all, she just continued smiling so widely her face might've broken in half. "I'm big fans of yours, you know?"

"You are? Of _us_?" Al asked skeptically

"Oh yeah!" Cadence bounced on the balls of her feet and clapped. "I've always wanted to be a henchgirl for a famous villain!"

All three elder women shared a glance that said one word so loud it should have been audible: "Fangirl."

"I'm going to be a henchgirl too someday," she said happily. "For the Scarecrow."

Al's polite smile slid out of place immediately but the Captain elbowed her in the ribs to remind her to mind her manners.

"I know you work for him...can I meet him?"

"Uhm...no, I don't think that's such a good idea."

"He's a grumpy guy as a general rule."

"Oh, I won't be much trouble," Cadence replied dismissively. "He'll like me, I'm sure! And then he can hire me!"

Whether or not Cadence knew what dangerous water she was treading, the Captain, Al and Techie didn't know, but they silently came to a unanimous decision.

They had to set the kid straight.

"He barely tolerates _us_," Techie said. "And we've already got our lifetime henchgirl plans all set up...I mean..."

"Three _is_ a crowd," Al added with a possessive bite to her tone.

"What Al's saying is...there...really isn't room for another person in the lair," Captain said diplomatically.

"Oh," Cadence's demeanor darkened, her smile turning to a frown before she brightened up again as the proverbial light bulb clicked on over her head. "Well, we'll just have to _make_ room!"


	4. Chapter 4

Jonathan Crane had, over the past few years, discovered that silence was a precious commodity that, when it graced him with its presence, was to be cherished. The times when he found himself well and _truly_ alone were so rare that he took it upon himself to enjoy them all the more. He would stretch out on the sofa _alone_, flip through a book _alone_...

There was no one to try and shove a sandwich down his throat or attempt to hug him. This was his _alone_ time.

After being so rudely awakened by the crazed laundry demon (alias Al), he had waited until the lair was empty to emerge from his bedroom and flop down in the common room with a newspaper spread out in his lap.

Now this, _this_ was his idea of heaven. Silent save for the ruffling of a newspaper page ever few minutes, it was a welcome respite from the usual racket that was prevalent in the place when _they_ were in occupation.

Of course, it couldn't last forever...all good things come to an end as they'd reminded him _again and again_...

The door opened with a crash and Crane groaned internally.

He was _not_ going to look up. No. No _way_.

"Squishykins!"

Damn Al for sounding so desperate.

"How many times have we been _over_ this?" he asked impatiently without looking up.

"Your problem with the epithets we use on you is not an issue right now! We have bigger problems!"

"She tried to _kill us_!"

"A shame she failed," he replied automatically. It's not like this was the first time they'd returned to the lair after having a disagreement without someone out there…

"Aren't you going to **do** anything?!" Techie sounded absolutely incredulously.

He cocked an eyebrow at his paper. "Should I?"

"We're your henchgirls! You're supposed to be all angry and avengey on our behalf!"

"I don't believe that was in the contract." He flipped to the next page of his newspaper. "If there's revenge to be had against this...whoever she is, I'm sure you can handle it yourselves."

"But...it's the principle of the thing!"

"I was unaware you _had_ any principles to speak of."

"If we didn't love you so much, we'd break your face in for that, Scarecrow," Techie growled.

Uh oh. He'd touched a nerve.

Well, it's a good thing he didn't _care_ that he'd done so...

His lip curled in distaste and he glanced up at them for the first time, ready to angrily remind them that he could still kill them if he wanted to.

He couldn't keep his eyes from widening for a second and his mouth hung open for a few seconds before he forcibly snapped it shut.

Either she'd fallen off a building, or someone had beaten the living shit out of the Captain. Busted lip, black eye, scratches on her face, torn clothes...

And the other two only looked _marginally_ better, standing on either side of her, playing the parts of rather convincing crutches, though they too were battered and bloodied.

His mouth formed the words before he could stop them from escaping. "What happened?"

"That bitch tried to KILL us, that's what! Haven't you been listening?!" Al screeched at him.

"She tried to hit us with a car! Well, okay, in Captain's case she_ succeeded_."

"She only winged me," the Captain defended. "I'll _live_...and limp for a while."

Crane folded his paper and set it aside, the absolute picture of calm. "_Who_ did this?"

"The bitch!" All three exclaimed in unison.

He shut his eyes, trying to control his blood pressure. "_Which_ bitch?"


	5. Chapter 5

It had to be some sort of record, Doctor Carey was convinced. Cadence hadn't been out of the sanitarium three days before she was back again...

And this time, there was no room for doubt that she was off her rocker. Especially since the police _dragged_ her in.

Arkham was full of people in Cadence's condition, but given her tender years, she was returned to Sunshine, a babbling, whining, crying _mess._

No one knew what happened to her. At least, no one whose name wasn't Jonathan Crane.

He'd found her in a motel...so nice to live in an age of technological wonders where people were so easily traceable...

The little blonde twit had been so happy to see him that she didn't see his fist come flying out of nowhere as he knocked her across the face and sent her reeling.

"This isn't on _their_ behalf, you understand," he had said to her, picking up the bedside lamp and smashing it against a wall so that he had a jagged edge. "I don't care about _them_."

Cadence barely had time to recover before he smashed the broken glass into her back. "I have a reputation to protect, _child_."

Then the toxin was out and his mask was on...

"They may merely be henchmen--but they are _my_ henchmen--and to do anything to _them_ is to undermine **me**."

The air grew thick with fear toxin and the screaming started as Cadence curled in on herself on the floor.

"And we can't have _that_, now can we?"

And inside Sunshine, in a padded room, Cadence rocked back and forth, her head thumping against one of the walls as she muttered to herself.

"No. No, we can't have _that_. No, no, no, we can't have that, Scary."

Away from Sunshine, where three henchgirls sat around tending their wounds, the Scarecrow stormed in, stripping off his mask and discarding it carelessly on the floor as he went, entered his room and slammed the door behind him.

The Captain, Al and Techie looked at each other.

"You don't think he..."

"No, he'd never. Not for _us_."

Captain looked at the mask with her one good eye. "Well it _is_ a little bloody looking, isn't it?"

"You know what this _means_, don't you?"

Even Crane, with his door shut, in his bed with a pillow over his head, trying to blot out their conversation, could hear the triumphant exclamation he was _afraid_ he'd hear upon his return...

"He does love us!"


End file.
